Between Friends
by HermioneinLurve
Summary: The Hogwarts trio are now 22, and Ron and Hermione are engaged. But she and a certain young man with emerald eyes and raven-black hair have unresolved feelings for one another... This is my first fanfic! (yikes) Hope you like it.
1. Chapter 1

Between Friends, Chapter 1  
  
It was a gorgeous ring...She turned her hand slowly, watching the light dance on the glittering surfaces of the diamond. It was also ungodly expensive, of that she was sure; not that he couldn't afford it, being top Keeper for the Chudley Cannons.  
  
As she recalled his awkward stammering the night before, a grin spread slowly over Hermione's face...  
  
Ron had taken her to her favourite Muggle restaurant, a very intimate little Italian place, complete with sweetly chequered tablecloths and votives on every table. She remembered how preoccupied he'd seemed, even sloshing a bit of the merlot onto the table as he'd poured it for her.  
  
She hadn't really been surprised when he'd dropped to one knee right in the middle of the cafe, his face filled with fear; but it had been undeniably charming. The sincerity in his eyes had warmed her heart. He'd been so adorably earnest, kneeling before her in his best suit, the open ring box in his hand.  
  
It hadn't occurred to her in the least to turn him down; not that she really would have. Not after six years together. Besides, she really did love him, quite deeply. The gangly, awkward boy who had so infuriated her at school had blossomed into a handsome, well-built, 6-foot 2-inch tall 22- year-old pro-Quidditch player.  
  
She'd looked into his clear blue eyes, wide with anticipation, and felt her inhibitions fall away.  
  
"Yes, of course Ron," she had responded. "Of course I'll marry you!" And for the moment, his sincerity was enough for them both.  
  
But now, as Hermione sat on her bed, eyeing the glimmering ring, her mind drifted, unconsciously, to another memory.  
  
It was her seventeenth birthday party, and everyone she loved was in attendance. She and Ron had been dating for about six months, and were just beginning to get serious about one another. As they sat sipping punch together, on the couch in her parents' den, Hermione suddenly glimpsed an old friend on the far side of the room.  
  
She rose to follow her friend, but found he'd suddenly disappeared. Puzzled, Hermione decided to make a quick trip to the ladies room instead. On her way out, she was cornered by a tipsy boy with messy, raven-black hair and green eyes that gleamed like emeralds.  
  
"Harry!" she exclaimed. "Where've you been? We've been waiting all night for you to turn up!"  
  
Harry, bleary-eyed and stumbling, wordlessly clasped her hand in his, and led her down the hall to her bedroom.  
  
As they entered the room, Harry turned and closed the door behind them. He was in quite a state; his eyes bloodshot and his hair even more wildly mussed than usual.  
  
"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked. "What's going on?"  
  
As he began to speak, she could smell alcohol on his breath.  
  
"Hermione, I really need to tell you something," Harry said, slightly slurring his words. He put his hands on her shoulders and lightly pushed her into a sitting position on the bed. He sat too, cross-legged and facing her. As Harry took one of her hands in both of his, Hermione was surprised at how cold and clammy they felt. When he opened his mouth to speak once more, Harry suddenly looked like he might be sick.  
  
"What? What is it, Harry?" Hermione implored. "Please, you're scaring me."  
  
Harry looked down at her hands in his.  
  
"Look, Hermione," he nervously began. "I know that you and Ron have been together for a little while now, and that you've liked each other since probably first year or something, but I really need to tell you that, well...I sort of ...like you too."  
  
Hermione was floored. She searched his face for signs of mirth. When she found none, she decided he must actually be serious.  
  
"But Harry, you've never acted the least bit interested in me!" she exclaimed. "Why haven't you told me this before? Why now, when Ron and I..." She trailed off.  
  
Harry was looking back down at her hand, still resting in his, and his eyes had begun to well up.  
  
"I'm really sorry," he said. "I've always meant to speak up, but felt I couldn't because of Ron's interest in you, and because of all the horrible things that keep going on around us. Then, last year, I lost Sirius..." Harry's tears had finally given way, and he was racked with sobs of grief and guilt. "I am so sorry, Hermione," Harry lamented. "I should have kept my big mouth shut."  
  
Hermione's heart melted. She embraced Harry, and held him until his sobs subsided.  
  
"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed. "I'm not angry at you...I'm actually glad you didn't keep these feelings secret forever. You have quite enough to worry about without carrying this burden around as well." Her face was very close to his now.  
  
"Harry, look, I have a confession to make too," she said softly. "I've always had sort of a crush on you, too. I mean, you're really gorgeous, and such a wonderful person. But, since you never showed an interest in me, I just figured I wasn't quite pretty or interesting enough for you."  
  
Harry's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"No, Hermione, you're brilliant!" he insisted. "You're the most beautiful girl I know. I love your smile, and the way your big brown eyes light up when you're pleased about something...Yeah, just like that," he paused, grinning.  
  
Hermione blushed.  
  
"I love how sensible you are, and the way your mind works," he continued. "I just...I really want to be with you, Hermione."  
  
Hermione took a moment to take in the stunning sight of her best friend. He was seventeen now, and had gotten quite tall; five-eleven, if she had to guess. His untameable black hair fell very slightly into his blazing green eyes, which were framed, as always, by his round, wire-rimmed glasses. His boyish face had become slightly more chiselled over the last year or so, but he had retained his beautiful light skin tone. The effect, she realized, was really rather breathtaking.  
  
Slowly, the tension reached a boiling point. When Harry ran a hand lightly through her hair, then gently kissed her cheek, it bubbled over. Harry kissed her, very gently, on the lips. Hermione responded by pressing her lips even harder against his. Eventually, it escalated to a full-on, open- mouthed kiss.  
  
They had barely begun when Hermione suddenly broke away.  
  
"Oh God, Harry!" she panted. "I can't do this. I just can't do this to Ron."  
  
Harry looked sadly into her eyes.  
  
"I know, Hermione," he said, stroking her cheek. "I'm too late, aren't I?"  
  
Hermione nodded miserably, wishing with all her heart that Harry had spoken up sooner. But, she was with Ron now, and she knew he didn't deserve this betrayal. Harry gazed at her for one last fleeting moment, kissed her cheek, and rejoined the party.  
  
About a month later, Harry met a new girl. Though that relationship didn't last long, it was enough of a distraction for the two of them to put the night of Hermione's party out of their minds. Harry and Hermione became best friends once more, and Ron was never the wiser.  
  
Hermione was so deeply absorbed in thought that she hadn't even heard Ron enter her flat. When he pushed open the door to her room, she jumped.  
  
"Hi, love!" Ron boomed, unaware that he was interrupting her reverie.  
  
"Hey, Ronnie!" she replied, smiling a little too brightly at him.  
  
"Oh, Hermione, today's practice was wicked," Ron announced, launching into a vivid description of the action.  
  
Hermione groaned inwardly. Why did he insist upon giving her the play-by- play after every practice?  
  
"Anyway," Ron continued, apparently noticing that Hermione's eyes had begun to glaze over. "You'll never guess who stopped by to watch me this afternoon!" Ron was pulling someone into the room by the arm. "Look, Herms!" he exclaimed. "It's our favourite Auror, freshly back from another death-defying adventure!"  
  
"Oh God," she thought, "not right now..."  
  
But into the room walked the very man who had occupied her nearly every thought since the moment Ron had proposed. It was Harry, right here, in her bedroom. To her great annoyance, Hermione blushed.  
  
Soon, the three of them were seated at Hermione's dining room table, with the boys engrossed in a discussion about the finer points of the Cannons' defence.  
  
Hermione studied her fingernails. Why the hell had she blushed? She was sure Harry had noticed, as he had looked at her rather curiously after it happened.  
  
"Jesus, why am I suddenly dwelling on something that happened five years ago, anyway?" she thought to herself. "Harry was drunk. He probably doesn't even remember it."  
  
Hermione, suddenly noticing that Ron was addressing her, jerked her head out of the clouds.  
  
"HER-MI-O-NE!" Ron was saying loudly; evidently, not for the first time.  
  
"Oh, sorry, yes?" she asked distractedly.  
  
"Good god, woman," Ron chided. "If you're going to be married to a professional Quidditch player soon, the least you can do is take some interest in the sport!"  
  
"Face it mate," Harry said, smiling widely. "If she wouldn't become a Quidditch fan for Viktor Krum, then she probably won't do it for you!"  
  
The three friends laughed together at the memory of the time Hermione, who had never been terribly enthused about Quidditch, dated one of the sport's greatest Seekers.  
  
After the trio had finished off the last of their Chinese takeout, Ron and Harry decided to go and do a little catching up at a pub on the corner. Hermione hugged them both goodnight. When Harry embraced her affectionately and offered his congratulations on the engagement, Hermione decided she was silly for wondering whether there was possibly still something between them. But just as the men were leaving, while Ron was giving her a lingering kiss goodbye, she thought she saw Harry flush and turn away.  
  
As she shut her front door behind them, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. She needed time to stop and consider the commitment she'd just made to Ron, and that was certainly something she could only do alone.  
  
Hermione drew herself a deep, hot bath. As she soaked in the steaming water, she found herself becoming overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. Should she really have accepted Ron's proposal? She knew she had unresolved feelings for Harry. Then again, she and Ron had been together since their sixth year at Hogwarts. He'd never given her a reason to doubt him. He was wonderfully loyal and loving. He had a wonderful family, and he was so remarkably stable.  
  
But what about her feelings for Harry? They were most certainly real, and very intense, actually. She feared she could not set them aside much longer. And what of his feelings for her? Dare she imagine that his boyhood infatuation with her persisted?  
  
By the time Hermione stepped out of the tub and threw on her favourite old flannel pyjamas, she found she was more confused than ever.  
  
Later that evening, as Hermione lie reading in bed, listening to the soft rain that had begun to fall outside, she heard a knock at the door. She sighed heavily.  
  
"Ronald! Have you forgotten your key again?" she enquired, swinging the door open. She stopped short, clutching her robe around her. There, before her, stood a dripping-wet Harry Potter.  
  
"Harry?" she managed to squeak. "Come in, you're soaked!"  
  
Harry entered the flat, and took his glasses off to dry the lenses.  
  
"What are you doing here?" she asked, with a puzzled expression. "It's nearly ten o'clock!"  
  
Harry smirked at her.  
  
"Good God, Hermione, is it really that late?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock-concern.  
  
Hermione blushed, realising how prudish she'd sounded.  
  
"Well, I have to get to work early tomorrow," she said defensively. "Draco's really been bugging me to help him on this new project," she explained, rolling her eyes.  
  
Harry's green eyes flashed at the mention of their old enemy, who was now Hermione's co-worker in the Magical Transportation office at the Ministry of Magic. Draco Malfoy had been cleared of any involvement with the Death Eaters after turning in his father, but Harry was still not convinced that he had actually changed for the better.  
  
"He'd better not be giving you any shit." Harry said in a dangerous tone.  
  
"No, no more than anyone else at the office." Hermione replied quickly, stifling a grin. Although she knew Draco Malfoy was under a close watch at the Ministry, and would have to be an imbecile to try anything stupid with her or anyone else he'd once deemed a "Mudblood", she still thought it very sweet that Harry was so protective of her.  
  
Harry's face suddenly turned apprehensive, as he apparently remembered why he'd shown up on her doorstep in the first place.  
  
"Listen Hermione," he began. "I really wanted to talk to you...Um, about your engagement."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened.  
  
"Okay, Harry," she started cautiously. "Come on in, you look like you're freezing to death."  
  
Harry and Hermione sank together into Hermione's overstuffed couch. They chatted for a while about life and work, carefully avoiding the subject of her betrothal to Ron. Eventually, though, they'd exhausted all other topics and were forced to confront the elephant in the room.  
  
Harry went first.  
  
"All right, Herms, there's no easy way to tell you this, so here it goes," Harry began, leaning in close to Hermione, and looking every bit as pale and shaky as he had at her party five years previously. "I have been in love with you since our fourth year together at Hogwarts."  
  
At this revelation, Hermione's jaw dropped.  
  
Harry hurriedly continued.  
  
"Look, Hermione, I've tried for eight years to look at you the way a friend should, but I just can't. I need you, Hermione." His eyes were glistening now. "I'll never meet another girl like you. Your mind, body, and soul are the most beautiful I have ever encountered. Best of all, you've always been my true friend. I've never had to wonder whether you liked me for me, or because I'm 'famous Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived'." He shook his head. "I don't mean to cause you or Ron any pain, I swear. But please, Hermione, tell me you love me too. Please, I can see it in your eyes..."  
  
Hermione's mind was reeling. Harry Potter, her best friend, and a notorious ladies' man, loved her?  
  
"And now, he's saying that he knows I love him, too, the arrogant prat!" she thought irritably.  
  
But as she looked into his beautiful green eyes, and swept an errant strand of his damp black hair off his forehead, she realised that he was absolutely right. She did love him. She always had.  
  
Hermione leaned in and very softly brushed Harry's lips with hers. Harry gazed at her in surprise, as though this was the very last thing he'd expected her to do. He kissed her back, very slowly, and gently pushed her back on the couch.  
  
Their first tentative kisses behind them, Harry and Hermione were hesitant no longer. They began kissing each other deeply and hungrily, their faces and bodies mashing wildly together. Hermione wrapped her arms and legs around Harry's waist, and he lifted her off the couch, sweeping into her bedroom and onto the bed.  
  
The years of sexual tension between them had come to a head. They both burned with repressed desires. The lustful look in Harry's eyes as he pulled off Hermione's top and kissed her breasts was enough to drive her over the edge. She pulled his preppy, button-down plaid shirt up over his head, and then tore off the white undershirt beneath.  
  
She was quite pleasantly surprised to see he was in unbelievable shape. As she ran both her hands across his chest, she couldn't help but notice that he was even better cut than her pro-athlete boyfriend.  
  
She took her time admiring his body, tracing her fingers along every perfect sinew until Harry, slowly and teasingly, began tugging off her pyjama pants. Once that was achieved, he was on her instantly, his mouth eagerly tasting her neck.  
  
She pushed him off, smirking at his protests, and started unbuttoning his pants. She slid them off and leaned back for a moment to drink in the view. The sight of Harry Potter in his boxers was definitely one to be savoured.  
  
By the time her bikinis and his boxers hit the floor, the two of them were already moaning loudly in sync, their bodies rocking back and forth on the bed. Hermione gazed up at Harry, and he stared right back at her, his face tense and determined.  
  
"Oh shit, he's amazing!" she thought. Ron had never made her body feel like this! Hermione was in ecstasy. As she felt the first waves begin to roll over her, she moaned deeply. It was a primal, guttural sound. Then...  
  
"Oh Harry, HARRY, GOD!" she screamed, climaxing so hard that Harry was taken aback by the force of it.  
  
When his turn came, and Harry finally let go inside her, his face became as serene as Hermione had ever seen it. It was so beautiful that Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to etch the expression into her memory.  
  
After they finished, Harry remained on top of Hermione for several moments, just stroking her hair, and kissing her gently. Eventually, he rolled off of her, and the two just lay next to one another, wrapped in a state of utter bliss. Harry turned to her, smiling happily.  
  
"I love you, Hermione," he told her, his green eyes shining more beautifully than ever.  
  
"God, I love you, too, Harry," she murmured happily in return.  
  
Whenever the thought of her fiancé threatened to surface, Hermione just pushed it away. As she gazed at Harry's nude form in her bed, covered from the waist down in her sheets, she was flooded with affection for him. There would be hellish consequences for them both, to be sure. But for now, Hermione was content simply to bask in the pleasure of the moment.  
  
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Hey, guys!! Don't forget to read and review if you want me to continue this story. It appears that not many people are reading it at fanfiction.net, but if I get a few more responses, I'll continue to update it on this site. 


	2. Chapter 2

Between Friends, Chapter 2  
  
"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T MARRY ME?!" Ron was shouting.  
  
It was the morning after Harry had showed up on her doorstep. Hermione had awoken with a sick feeling in her stomach. She knew what she had to do, but that didn't make it any easier. To put the talk with Ron off any longer was unfair. As soon as she was dressed, Hermione went right over to his flat to try and break off their engagement as gently as possible. She knew it would be difficult, but she had underestimated the wrath of Ron's ginger-haired temper. The shouting had begun the moment the words left her mouth. Ron was incensed.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" he sobbed.  
  
Hermione cried into their hands.  
  
"I have no reason other than that I know you and I aren't meant to be," she replied weakly.  
  
"How can you SAY that?" Ron angrily enquired, tears streaming down his crimson cheeks. "How did you arrive at that brilliant conclusion, after six bloody years together? We're ENGAGED, for fuck's sake! Oh Christ, what am I going to tell my mum and dad?"  
  
Hermione pulled her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them, and simply allowed Ron's anger to rain over her. She obviously couldn't tell him the truth today. His reaction to the break-up was bad enough. It would kill him to find out that Harry and Hermione had slept together; that they loved each other. No, she couldn't tell him today, so she just ducked her head and let him finish his rant. Even though Hermione knew that Ron needed to vent, and that she deserved every minute of his raging, she was ashamed to find herself hoping that it would end soon. Last night, whilst she lay in Harry's arms, Hermione had not allowed herself to consider the anguish their new relationship would cause Ron. But now, looking into his grief-stricken face, she could not deny that she was causing him to suffer immensely. Eventually, Ron tired of attempting to force an answer from Hermione, and, looking resigned and ill, he simply told her to go.  
  
Hermione slunk home, Ron's angry voice ringing in her head. The moment she stepped into her own flat, Hermione sank to the floor. She sobbed out of shame and remorse. She regretted the day she ever became involved with Ron, who was clearly meant to be nothing other than her friend...her best friend. And now they wouldn't even have that.  
  
Hermione suddenly found herself in dire need of someone to talk to. She didn't know where to turn. Her best girlfriend, Ginny, was Ron's sister, and she didn't really feel ready to tell her mother about the break-up. With no-one else in her life to understand, Hermione had no choice but to confide in her co-betrayer. She rang Harry, and he agreed to come over.  
  
They were back on her squashy couch when she told Harry that she'd broken it off with Ron that morning. Harry looked stunned. His eyes wide, he asked her whether she was sure that's what she wanted.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Of course it is. What else could I do? Last night..." she trailed off, her eyes downcast. "Well, last night was really, really wrong of us, but it did make me realise that if I can have feelings this strong for you, I'm definitely not ready to marry Ron. He took it really badly, by the way; and I didn't even tell him about you and me."  
  
Harry suddenly looked very peaked. He loved Hermione deeply, but Ron was like a brother. The sudden realisation that he'd caused his best friend so much pain hit him hard. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  
  
"Christ, what have I done?" he asked himself with a tortured look in his eyes.  
  
"Look, it's not your fault, okay?" Hermione tried to reassure him, "I would have left him sooner or later anyway. Better now than after we were married! I love him so much, but just not in the right way. Not passionately and completely. Not like I love you, Harry."  
  
He flicked those arresting eyes up at her then, and she looked right into them. She was biting her lip nervously, hoping he wasn't about to renounce everything he'd told her the previous night. Sensing her apprehension, Harry spoke.  
  
"Hermione, I meant every word I said last night," Harry said firmly, "I love you more than I can say. Making love to you last night only strengthened my feelings for you, even if I'm not proud of giving into lust before you broke it off with Ron. Come here," he said, patting the space closest to him on the couch. Hermione complied, and they sat curled together, her head on his shoulder, until it was time for Harry to leave.  
  
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Hey, guys!! Don't forget to read and review if you want me to continue this story. It appears that not many people are reading it at fanfiction.net, but if I get a few more responses, I'll continue to update it on this site. 


	3. Chapter 3

Between Friends, Chapter 3  
  
"Shit!" Hermione muttered under her breath. She was late to work, and trying to sneak in unnoticed when she ran headlong into Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Good morning, Ms. Granger!" he loudly exclaimed, a great smirk spreading over his face. "So glad you could join us on this fine day!"  
  
"Fuck off, Malfoy," she hissed.  
  
"Temper, Granger! I thought we were going to try to keep things civil between us." Draco drawled, smirk still in place. He followed her into her office. "So what's got your knickers in such a twist this morning?" he asked. "Had a row with Weasley, have you?"  
  
Hermione shot him a withering look.  
  
"You'd know what one looks like, wouldn't you, Draco? You and Pansy had enough of them before your divorce!"  
  
Draco's smirk evaporated.  
  
"Jesus, Granger, there's really no need to get nasty," he muttered, looking wounded.  
  
Hermione felt a small twinge of guilt. Draco had, after all, just gotten the final papers last month. He and Pansy Parkinson had been school sweethearts, just as she and Ron had. Pansy had abruptly left him when his parents were sent to Azkaban. Hermione had heard rumours that Pansy was humiliated by Draco's fall from grace, and that she'd decided a marriage to a mere Ministry worker was beneath her.  
  
"Er...sorry, Draco." Hermione said quietly. "My personal life is just a bit stressful at the moment."  
  
"No harm done, Granger," Draco replied, his dark expression lifting a bit. "Now, shall we get started on this project?"  
  
Draco and Hermione were working together on several new additions to the Floo Network, all located in Wessex. It was bloody boring work, but rather tricky, as Wessex, playing host to a number of prehistoric monuments, including Stonehenge, tended to be deluged with Muggle tourists. It was an assignment that would eventually require the two of them to travel to Wessex, in Muggle attire, and personally test the new additions.  
  
As they worked, Hermione couldn't help stopping periodically to marvel at the apparent transformation in Draco's attitude. At school, Draco Malfoy had been nothing less than a snotty, loathsome, insulting little git. Though Hermione still didn't consider him a friend, she was amazed at how tolerable he'd become out from his under father's critical eye. He was actually an intelligent, thoughtful co-worker, and Hermione could think of far worse people to have to interact with on a daily basis.  
  
As the work day drew to a close, Hermione began to gather her things. She was just tying her scarf when Draco grabbed her arm.  
  
"Erm, Hermione, I was wondering if I might have a word?" he enquired.  
  
Hermione was so stunned by his use of her given name that she just nodded mutely.  
  
"Um, look..." he began. "I know that I was a nasty little bastard in school, and I just want to say...I am deeply, truly sorry." Draco's expression was sincere.  
  
Hermione's eyes were wide. Did Draco Malfoy really just apologise?  
  
"Wow, er, thanks, Draco! I really appreciate that..." she replied, in an astounded tone. "But, an apology?" she asked, laughing. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"  
  
Draco's face brightened.  
  
"Yeah, I think I am," he responded smilingly. "Just keep it between us, eh? Wouldn't want old Potty and Weaselby to come round asking for an apology as well."  
  
At the mention of the men in her life, Hermione's face fell.  
  
Draco looked alarmed.  
  
"What's wrong, Hermione?" he asked quickly. "Have I said something? I was only kidding about Potter and Weasley, I swear."  
  
Hermione bit hard on her lip to avoid crying in front of Draco.  
  
"No, that's not it," she sighed. "It's nothing to do with you. I just...well, Ron and I are...well, we've sort of...broken up." Great, she thought, here I am, pouring my heart out to Draco sodding Malfoy. "Anyway," she concluded. "It's a long story...You don't want to know."  
  
"Try me, Hermione," Draco quietly replied. "I may surprise you."  
  
His silver eyes bore an expression Hermione didn't recognise. Was it empathy? From a Malfoy?  
  
"You've pulled a long day here at the office," Draco observed. "Let me take you to dinner. We'll go strictly as work colleagues, of course," he added, winking.  
  
Hermione sighed wearily. She didn't fully trust Draco, but he did seem sincere. Besides, she really did feel like talking to someone other than Harry or Ron about the tangled web her love life had become.  
  
An hour (and a couple of pints) later, Hermione had spilled the entire ghastly story to Draco. Amazingly, he'd sat and listened to the whole thing with nary a smirk, and without interrupting once.  
  
"So anyway," Hermione concluded. "That's the whole nasty saga." She buried her face in her hands. "I feel like absolute shit about it all."  
  
Draco let out a low whistle.  
  
"Jesus, Granger," he exclaimed. "That is a mess. Though, I can't say I'm surprised."  
  
Hermione raised her head to shoot him a puzzled look.  
  
"What do you mean?" she demanded. "You expected my life to turn out this utterly fucked up?"  
  
Draco chuckled.  
  
"No, Hermione," he said gently. "But I, along with nearly everyone else at school, have known that Potter was madly in love with you since he saw you at the Yule ball in our fourth year."  
  
Hermione looked stunned.  
  
"You and the rest of the school?" she queried. "How the hell did everyone know but me?"  
  
"Oh, come off it, Hermione!" Draco said, rolling his eyes. "It was quite obvious. From that night on, Potter was constantly gazing at you with great puppy-dog eyes. It was rather sickening, actually." Draco paused, shuddering. "Can't say I blame him, though." he continued. "You did look utterly radiant that night." His face bore a wolfish grin. "You do clean up rather well, you know, Granger."  
  
Hermione pelted him with peanuts.  
  
"All right, all right! Mercy!" Draco cried, laughing.  
  
Hermione checked her watch.  
  
"Well, I better go," she said. "Thanks for listening to me. I really appreciate it, and I feel loads better." She laughed. "I guess you've turned out to be a pretty nice fella after all."  
  
Draco smiled.  
  
"Anytime, Hermione," he replied, and Hermione could tell he meant it.  
  
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Hey, guys!! Don't forget to read and review if you want me to continue this story. It appears that not many people are reading it at fanfiction.net, but if I get a few more responses, I'll continue to update it on this site. 


End file.
